


Antimony

by kim_wonpil



Category: Day6 (Band)
Genre: 60s!Brian, 60s!Jae, Dystopia, M/M, Modern!Dowoon, Prince!Wonpil, Soldier!Sungjin, War
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-04-14
Updated: 2019-04-14
Packaged: 2020-01-10 23:57:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,142
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18418574
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kim_wonpil/pseuds/kim_wonpil
Summary: Meddling with time has never been a good idea. Yet Yoon Dowoon thought it was a good idea.





	1. Transitioning

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Sungjin makes a scary decision, and Dowoon changes reality forever.

**Busan, South Korea, 1950**

“State your name.”

“Park Sungjin.”

The young man shuffled around, shifting his weight from each foot as he stood tall in front of the middle-aged man. Was this still a good idea?

The general before him scribbled down some notes. “Proceed.”

Sungjin looked down at his feet, before stepping aside to get his uniform. The voices of many other young Korean men filled the air, and the smell of rusting metal and sweat inhabited Sungjin’s nostrils. He didn’t recognise anyone else in the facility. Even then, everyone appeared much older than him anyway. Almost like they were already ridden with war memories and incredibly experience.

Park Sungjin felt out of place.

 

**Seoul, South Korea, 2073**

He did it.

Yoon Dowoon, the outcast, the loner, the geek, had invented a time machine.

The young man stepped back and proudly admired his hard work. He gently wiped the sweat off his brow with the back of his hand (the palm was smothered in grease and more sweat.)

His uncle knew he could do it. On his deathbed, Dowoon’s uncle had spoken wise words.

_”You’re a smart boy, Dowoon. If you put your mind to something, you’ll achieve it. And I know you can finish what we started by yourself.”_

Dowoon had invented something he and his uncle had blueprints on for years. From a young age, Dowoon knew he wanted to invent something life changing. And he’d just done it. After all these years.

After all these years, Dowoon was still working in his old garage in his uncle’s house that was left to him.

After all these years, of self-driven and independent work, Dowoon lived in a penthouse in Seoul.

After all these years, Dowoon achieved what he’d wanted.

The machine was quite small, with only room for about three people. Of course, it was only a prototype, and had a door you had to twist the handle of, like a submarine. A tiny little capsule, invented by one man.

(With the help of another.)

A tear rolled down Dowoon’s cheek. One after the other, and he was sobbing.

Dedication really did pay off.

After clearing himself up, Dowoon took an apple that he’d planned on eating for lunch, but lunch had passed and it was now 3 o’clock in the morning.

_Time really does fly._

Twisting open the heavy metal door, Dowoon placed the apple on the floor inside, after taking a bite. He then slammed the door, and took the prototype version of the keypad that was also inside the time machine. 

_I’m going to finish that apple in the future._

**Location: Similar**

**Time: 3:34am**

_Click._

The machine vanished, right before his eyes.

A minute passed. It was now 3:34am, and Dowoon was craving apples.

The young man tapped on his keypad once again.

The machine arrived.

Dowoon opened the door.

Another bite had been taken out of the apple.

Success.

 


	2. To Extremes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which a prince marries, and Dowoon tells his secret.

** Incheon, South Korea, 2910 **

“Your Highness, Kim Wonpil, do you take this man to be your lawfully wedded husband?”

Wonpil, son of the House of Kim, turned his head to his groom’s hickory, thin eyes. The twenty year old swallowed. He thought he’d be happy on his wedding day. Grow up, have a family, rule Incheon. It sounded simple.

But Wonpil was not in love.

He looked gorgeous. Wonpil’s dark, reddish hair was gelled back in a suave quiff. A sweet little headband pushed back this hair, made of real gold and entwined like vines. He wore luxurious white robes, intricately sewn with gold and silver patterns of forsythia flowers.  Deeper love.

Oh, Im Sangchul. Your eyes shine like a million stars that my future is written into. They are beautiful, but I cannot ask for them to be there. My future is not with you, Chul. Though I have loved you for years, I am not destined to be with you.

“I do.”

•••

”I have to admit, you looked beautiful today.”

Wonpil gripped the golden headpiece from his head, ripping it away and throwing it onto the bed. His mahogany quiff messy and sticking out in strands. 

“Pillie, I complimented you. What’s the matter?”

Sangchul was a masculine man on the outside. On the inside, he was warm and motherly. Wonpil knew that the most out of anyone; he grew up with Chul. 

“This family. This tradition. I’m sick of it.” Wonpil spoke with such a flow that made Sangchul believe he’d written a script.

”Pil, you know this is for the best, right?” 

Wonpil shook his head. “Chul, this isn’t what I want. I love you, as a friend. And only as a friend.”

Sangchul sighed, running a hand through his hair. He wrapped his arms around the feminine man, who was now sobbing softly. Sangchul squeezed, letting the innocent Wonpil cry.

”Ch-Chul...I’m sorry.”

”Don’t be, Pillie.” Sangchul combed his hand through Wonpil’s silken hair. 

Once Wonpil had stopped crying, he lightly pressed his chapped, salty lips to Sangchul’s. “I can learn to love you, Chul. I know I have the capacity.”

Sangchul smiled gently, kissing Wonpil’s forehead. “I know I can too.”

”So what now, hyung?” Wonpil questioned.

”Well, married couples usually have sex on the night of their wedding, but I understand that you don’t-“

Wonpil pressed his palms against Sangchul’s broad chest. ”I would love to, hyung.”

Sangchul smirked, his eyes creasing, as he slyly picked up the bottle of champagne that was left on the bedside table. 

He poured Wonpil and himself a glass each, before they clinked them together.

”To us?” Wonpil suggested.

”Definitely, to us.”

•••

** Seoul, South Korea, 2073**

Dowoon sat down at the table in his favourite cafe the next day. He was worn out and sleep after his long night of work. But it had all been worth it in the end. He played with his fingers, his keys clashing down on the table.

The young man observed the people around him. The families and the children, the couples and the friends. They all had a story to tell, and this was one of Dowoon’s favourite things to do: observe.

One couple was arguing whilst their little girl was playing.

A group of friends were in tears of laughter.

One man sat by himself.

”Dowoon, you look like a creep.”

"Chaewon .”

The girl twisted her finger around her fading blush coloured hair, pulling the chair out and perching down on it. “You look tired, Woonie. Late night?”

Dowoon chuckled, rubbing his eyes with his knuckles. “Extremely. But...I think it’s finished.”

Chaewon’s mouth formed the shape of an ‘o’, before she grinned brightly. “You did it?” the spunky girl exclaimed.

”You bet I did.” Dowoon smirked. “Because I’m awesome.” 

”Oh, I bet you are.” Chaewon signed, rolling her eyes. “Let’s get some coffee to go, then you can show me your new ride.”


End file.
